


The Ball

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Captain Watson's thoughts as he observes the attendees of the Highbury Ball.Taken from Chapter 37 of ChrisCalledMeSweetie's wonderful Jane Austen adaptation, "Not Entirely Clueless." Knowledge of this work is necessary to understand what's going on.





	The Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Not Entirely Clueless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11054937) by [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/pseuds/ChrisCalledMeSweetie). 



> If you haven't read "Not Entirely Clueless" harness your team and drive your carriage directly there and enjoy. It has been a year in the making and is near completion.

Standing stiffly and oddly ill at ease amongst the elderly husbands, widowers and whist-players, Captain John Watson cast a baleful glare at the proceedings around him.

Not normally indisposed to convivial entertainment and well schooled in the social graces, he nevertheless found himself far from delighted at his current predicament. He could not fault the preparations, hall, or general air of gaiety of the evening, yet somehow he could not throw off his rancorous mood.

He supposed it could be attributed to his solitary status. Unaccompanied by a companion, he felt himself strangely wrong footed, unable to fully appreciate the festivities. As his mind wandered, his thoughts were drawn to his preferred hobby of Falconry. It pleased him to enter into partnership with such a noble wild creature where both depended upon the other for mutual reward.

It occurred to him that tonight's gathering was rather akin to another endeavor, Ornithology. The room was filled with churning, chattering birds. There as Host, to lead the first dance, was Mr.Hudson. John repressed his inclination to snort as he envisioned the portly gentleman as The Great Grey Goose, master of the barnyard honking his instructions as he shepherded the new Mrs.Moriarty to the dance floor. Mrs.Moriarty was another matter altogether, the primping screeching Peacock, forgetting that in reality she, the Peahen, for all her noise, was but a poor second to her more adorned male counterpart.

Mr.Moriarty played that role quite thoroughly, but to John he appeared more Vulture than Peacock, lurking above the fray awaiting his chance to swoop down upon the weak and devour them for his pleasure; a most disconcerting contemplation as regards the local Vicar. At the same time, John smiled gently at the congenial good humor and approbation of Mrs.Hudson, so like the dearly loved Canary, bringing soothing melodies and cheer to all in her circle.

Briefly, as the assembled revelers made ready for further dancing, John could not resist comparing the venerable Mrs-Miss Turners to the whizzing, flitting Hummingbirds. Never still, never seeming to rest if even for the briefest of moments, until only they are not exhausted by their pertpual motion. He was not well acquainted with the large Wilkes family but felt compelled to shake his head as they spread throughout the venue consuming everything in sight much like a Murder of Crows.

Miss Adler was not held in his high regard, and tonight was no different. Although well bred and the picture of the proper lady, Irene gave the affectation of the English Starling. Her outward purple plumage a means to draw around her a crowd with whom she would hold court and travel the evenings celebrations en masse, adored by her flock. One hovering near this Queen but not too near, was Sally Donovan who put John in mind of a cooing Dove. One meant to find a true mate for life, now with neither family nor partner to ease her loneliness.

His attention was drawn to a rather disquieting scene where Mr.Moriarty most blatantly refused all of Mrs.Hudson's entrities to rescue Molly Hooper from her most unhappy state of not having been accorded an offer of a dance. Pulling himself from his stupor, Captain Watson strode forward and offered her his hand to the great relief of those privy to the snub. "Poor wee thing," John thought as they glided across the floor. "She is a Nightingale with much to offer and none to acknowledge her value."

At this point, an announcement of supper was made, and if John was aware of a certain pair of verdigris eyes focused upon him, he made no indication of having noticed.

After the meal, the dancing was to resume full force, and John found the entire affair not unlike a giant aviary. All of them were contained within a large gilded cage of their own making; preening, posturing and vying for attention.

Sherlock approached and quickly made clear his gratefulness for John's kindness towards Molly and his embarrassment and regret at having ever supposed Mr.Moriarty to be worthy of praise. The smile which crossed his handsome young face when the Captain graciously accepted his veiled apology filled John with the first truly pleasant feeling of the night.

Deciding to be forthright and bold, he inquired of his young friend, "Whom are you going to dance with?"

A brief hesitation and a blush was followed by, "With you if you will ask me."

"Will you?", fell from John's lips as he offered his hand.

As the music began, Sherlock was babbling some such about the Lestrade-Holmes', but John was not paying the strictest of attention. He was, instead, occupied by a reverie of the dear boy in his arms. Sherlock was the Falcon, an untamed thing to be trained at John's will, his new Master. Perhaps, however, John was the prey, destined to be the object of the Falcon's relentless pursuit.

The music swelled, their eyes met in a smoldering stare and John realized he did not yet know. But by God, he was going to derive the greatest of pleasure in finding out.

**Author's Note:**

> With all praise and kudos to ChrisCalledMeSweetie for her stories, and for opening this collection for her fans to channel their inner Jane.


End file.
